


Sohail: The Cairn and the Carrot

by haunted_writes



Series: Out of the Black [1]
Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-24
Updated: 2018-05-24
Packaged: 2019-05-13 11:18:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,867
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14747831
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/haunted_writes/pseuds/haunted_writes
Summary: A no-nonsense orc stumbles upon a mysterious cave. What horrors will reveal themselves once she steps out of the rain and into the blue darkness?





	Sohail: The Cairn and the Carrot

Falkreath. 3am. Rain beating down in thick silver sheets. Sohail bent awkwardly over her torch, begging under her breath that it stay lit. She had been exploring too late into the evening, a familiar habit spurred by a constant desire for amassing treasure. Having lived in Falkreath for a few seasons, the orc figured that she was used to the area. Everything is different at night, not to mention how different things appear at night during a downpour. A raindrop slid down the glassy cap of Sohail’s helmet and dripped boldly into her eye. She snorted disdainfully. There had to be a cave nearby.

Indeed, there was. Sohail passed a few more minutes wandering aimlessly through the storm until she came upon a gaping blackness that slashed through a nearby rock formation. If it had not been for her awkward dance to save her fire, she would have missed the cave entrance entirely. By the looks of things, this cave seemed safe enough. No blood congealing in thick masses on the grass and no artful displays of bones. In fact, the presence of a few Nordic burial urns—broken unceremoniously—lying in the grass did not perturb Sohail in the slightest. Draugr were easy targets. 

She slipped between the wet boulders, feeling that she had been nearly sucked into the blackness by a force far stronger than she. A strange sensation, but that would pass quickly. It was probably just her magic-addled mind playing tricks on her, anyway. 

That roaring blue pillar of light jetting from that blood-splashed altar was certainly not a trick of the mind, however. The sound filled the entirety of the rock-walled room; it must have been masked by the sound of the beating rain. Still, very little nowadays actually disturbed Sohail. Just another day in Skyrim, right? Besides, that pulling feeling had stopped. She confidently approached the altar. 

Three bodies. Bandits, by the looks of their armor. Their bruised limbs encircled the bloody cairn, creating a near-endless ring of gory flesh. Sohail perused through their satchels and pockets, taking as much time as needed. She was in no hurry to face the storm raging outside. As usual, she found a couple small handfuls of gold, some arrows, and…a carrot? After stashing her more valuable finds, Sohail turned her attention entirely on the carrot. It was pristine, a beautiful orange color. There was even still some earthy-smelling dirt caught in the leafy top. How had it managed to avoid even a single drop of blood? That gold was thoroughly stained.  
As these thoughts continued to pass through Sohail’s mind, she unconsciously raised the carrot to her mouth. Without thinking, she took a bite. The sweet crunch brought everything back into focus. The flavor was immaculate. It was like being bludgeoned with a sugar-laden log. Savoring the flavor, Sohail began a more thorough survey of the room. Boulders, boulders, blood stains…a smaller boulder, and then—aha!—a pedestal. 

Sitting atop the black pedestal was a journal and a key. Sohail’s thirst for gossip overrode her interest in both the key and the carrot, and she quickly snatched the journal, flipping to the first page in one fluid motion. At only a few pages in length, the journal wasted no time in getting to the good stuff. Agrius, Vidgrod, and Raen—the three unfortunate bandits—had apparently been manipulated into killing themselves by some powerful force native to the cave. 

Sohail briefly recalled the sucking sensation. A chill ran down her spine. Fear wasn’t native to her, but there was something about this cave that rubbed her entirely the wrong way. Was there moaning beyond the rocks? Or was that the sound of the storm drumming outside? Her thoughts continued to drift, but another automatic bite of the carrot brought her back to reality. Savor the flavor. 

That terrible blue light glinted off the dirty surface of the key and Sohail grabbed it. She also caught sight of a large, Nordic-style door just a few feet away. This felt like a set-up, but the orc defied her own burning sense of danger and sauntered over to the door. 

“Simple enough,” she sighed as the door noisily swung open. “Simple enough.”

But would the rest be simple enough? Some old instinct told her, no. A challenge lied ahead, deep within the old stone; but, Sohail was prepared to face anything. Even the dead.  
A fine, dusty scent drifted through the open doorway. Sohail snorted, rejecting the dank, heavy air. She hated the smell of crypts. The Nords were awful at ventilation. Carrot in hand, the orc persisted, leaving the door wide open behind her. As she strolled through the narrow hallways, the persistent roaring of that blue light gently drifted away, pushed further and further out of her mind as she regained a greater sense of confidence. This wasn’t so bad. Yeah, this was easy street! No draugr, no traps, what was she even worried about? 

“Does someone dare live among the dead?”

The voice cut through her thoughts like her tusks through that carrot—swiftly, expertly, and with a hint of unchecked savageness. Standing atop a flight of stone stairs, upon which Sohail had placed one boot, was a shimmering blue phantom wielding a spectral sword. 

“What?” Sohail gasped. She was so surprised, in fact, that she dropped her half-eaten carrot. It fell to the dust at her feet, making no noise, but bringing a strange surge of loss to the orc’s heart. Dropped her carrot? A ghost on the stairs? Ludicrous. 

The gnarled mace at her hip flung out a wave of burning hate, desire to strike, desire to kill. Sohail lifted her weapon, blazoned with the face of her fondest lord, and propelled herself up the stone steps with the strength and ferocity of a sabre cat. In an instant, she was upon the spirit, driving her mace deep into the semi-corporeal form. After a mere few strikes, the phantom melted into a pile of glowing goop. So, not only do ghosts exist, but they can be killed just like any other pathetic fool. Good to know. 

Sohail carried on throughout the rest of the crypt in much the same way. Ghosts and draugrs were dispensed of quickly, treasure was snatched without a second thought, and traps were unceremoniously stormed through. Her current of violence only slowed when she came upon a wide doorway leading into a cavernous, glowing room. That same blue jet of light, flying upward into the domed ceiling, played on the surfaces of two pools. The dark water moved in languid waves, although there was hardly any moving air. At the end of the room Sohail saw a stone throne, before which stood a draugr in bulky iron armor. It didn’t see her.  
An avid explorer, Sohail understood the distribution of power within these tombs. In almost every crypt, the most powerful beings inhabited the deepest spaces. She felt for her mace. The burning hatred which seethed from the cold ebony slithered up her arm and coiled around her heart. She was ready. As she crossed the stone bridge towards the throne, the draugr finally caught notice of her. It stepped forward, matching Sohail’s brisk confidence. It was ready, too. 

Her mace met its sword. A clear ringing noise filled the room, followed by many more as the battle ensued. Sohail’s grunts matched the draugr’s wet snarls. The two furiously exchanged hot blows, but when it finally seemed that Sohail was gaining the upper hand, something completely bat-shit happened. At least, that’s how she would describe it. 

The draugr seemed to split into three beings, the original slipping away as it was consumed by some strange purple mist. Positioned around the room in a perfect triangular formation, the three copies all exhaled long, disgusting roars. Draugr magicians were one thing, but this was something else entirely. 

“Bastard!” Sohail snarled. 

The orc flexed her left hand and it was suddenly consumed in flickering fire. It cast a savage glow across her face. The deep shadows and the old blood spattered on her armor made her look otherworldly, like an old orcish king ready to reclaim his lost honor. She hated draugr, she hated dusty old tombs. Her right hand flexed tighter around the hilt of the mace. 

Each draugr caster let loose a maelstrom of elemental power, directed singly at Sohail. They hardly moved from their ascribed positions, standing still as they focused on their ancient magic.  
The waves of searing magic broke against Sohail and she let out a twisted cry of pain. She’d forgotten oakflesh, a rookie mistake. Was this all really worth some treasure, some trinkets? Noticing that the mages were beginning to prepare another round of spells, she decided that it didn’t matter. These bastards deserved her wrath based purely on principle. 

A warm, pale light replaced the fire burning in her left hand and upon flexing the magic, she felt herself renewed, rejuvenated. The battle carried on in this way for what seemed like ages, but was really only a few minutes. It was only when she was able to overpower the first magician that the other two fell much more easily. She had her mace to thank, that was for sure. 

Once the magicians were defeated, the original draugr slipped back into existence through the same purple cloud. Sohail approached it from across the vast room at a dead run, wielding her bloody mace high above her head. The draugr had hardly time to react—a feeble wet snarl—before she brought the mace down on its skull, effectively splitting the head open. 

Suddenly, everything around Sohail grew quiet. The blue pillar of light at the center of the room faded, tumbling down through a large circular grate in the floor. The dreadful hum that the light brought with it also died away, leaving the orc standing in a dim silence. She looked down at the dead draugr, a pile of blood and meat and splintered bone. Beside it was the staff it wielded throughout the fight. Upon lifting it, Sohail noticed a name crudely etched into the dyed wood.

“Halldir,” she mused. 

Feeling confident that the battle was truly over, Sohail began a speculative sweep of the room. She found several things of worth, but none so mysterious or eye-catching as Halldir’s swanky staff. There was no clear exit, but by yanking on a pulley, Sohail forced that huge grate in the floor wide open. The orc rolled her eyes; she couldn’t just walk out, could she?

With the grace of an armor-laden cat, she carefully jumped down the grate and into a gaping hole, the throat of which was staggered with wrought iron shelves. At the bottom, she landed on a rocky cairn, from which that blue light had so strongly emanated. Around her, she noted the cracked bodies of the bandits. Fools, but she supposed she couldn’t blame them. 

Near the cairn Sohail found their camping supplies. She sat upon a modest bedroll, removed her helmet, and listened to the persistent hammering of the rain. It was going to be a long night, especially without that carrot to savor.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this! This is the first fanfic I've written in an extremely long time. I'm hoping this piece will act as a jumping-off point for me as I return to creative writing. Thanks again!


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